Trouble revised
by breathing is over-rated
Summary: Sherlock has dug himself a hole and Mycroft gets John to help dig him out of it but the plan is slightly out of the ordinary  sherlock/john establish relationship


**AN**- This is the revised version, enjoy!

Hey, guess what? I now own BBC! Heh, jokes. Sherlock is not mine.

* * *

><p>John had been in many stressful situations in his life time but nothing could prepare him for the bundle of stress which was known as Sherlock Holmes; his flat mate. The man seemed to be able to read minds and appeared to be out on a mission to make everyone else's life hell.<p>

* * *

><p>The doctor had just returned home from a trying night shift and wanted nothing more than to make a good strong cup of tea then go to bed. He turned the key in the lock and opened the door to the apartment. Looking up, he stopped in his tracks for a moment before walking into the kitchen, making a beeline for the kettle. The flat was silent, everything was in its rightful place as far as he could tell and his flat mate was nowhere to be seen, but he couldn't help the feeling in the pit of his stomach that said something was very wrong.<p>

He chuckled to himself, _when you think something's wrong because everything's normal, you know there's a problem._ The thought caused him to stop and smile. Perhaps Sherlock really was rubbing off on him; though he would never say that to anyone's face.

The water boiled and John made his cup of tea, carrying it with him to his chair. He had been home for 15 minutes now and he hadn't heard a word from the consulting detective. Not a thing. He relaxed into the chair; hopefully the other was asleep. That would give him a few more hours of peace and quiet.

A knock at the door brought the dozing doctor back to full consciousness. He stood up, stretching his aching leg, and made his way to the door. His mind cleared and he realized that he still couldn't hear Sherlock. His pace quickened, and then he realized that Sherlock never knocked and he never forgot his keys. The doctor reached the door and unlocked it, opening it to find the elder Holmes standing in his doorway. He looked slightly confused.

'Um, Sherlock's not here.' John said, hoping the man would simply leave but he knew that the chances of that happening were very slim.

Mycroft looked at him as he replied, 'I know, that's why I'm here.'

John stepped aside as an invitation for him to go inside, dreading what he was about to say. They sat down in, John on his flat mate's sofa and Mycroft on John's chair. The man seemed to be thinking how best to say the words.

'My brother has got himself into a bit of bother with Scotland Yard,' he began, 'It seems he's finally over stepped the mark. The annoying thing is that they know about me so I can't do as much as I would like to.' John's knuckles went white as he clenched them together, comprehending what the other was saying. He licked his dry lips before responding.

'So what does this have to do with me? Why should I care what Sherlock does? Sherlock's a big boy now; he has to learn how to get himself out of his own holes.' John didn't look at Mycroft; he knew his eyes would give him away. Sadly, he didn't need to see the doctor's face to tell his true feelings.

'I think you and I both know that's not quite true, don't we?' the question was rhetorical. Mycroft continued, 'Anyway, the reason that I can't go to anyone else for this task is that it has to be believable.'

'And why do you need me for that, you can have your pick of the best actors, go to them.' John responded.

'Well, a couple of reasons. One; it won't be acting, two; it has to be seemingly long term and three; because I don't think you'd want it to be anyone else.' With that, John finally gave in.

'What are we going to do?' He asked and Mycroft gave him one of his best predatory grins.

'We are going to give Sherlock an alibi the Yard cannot help but accept.'

* * *

><p>The elder Holmes had left over half an hour ago, leaving various papers on the table for him to look over and John still couldn't quite believe what he was going to do. Deciding he shouldn't wait any longer, he quickly, he left the flat and headed to Scotland Yard, determined to get the detective back. Sherlock was going to pay for this when he got home.<p>

John stormed into the Yard like a hurricane of anger and frustration. He marched right into Lestrade's office and slammed his hands down on the table to get his full attention. His eyes screamed bloody murder as the DI just looked at him dumbfounded, never seeing this side of the soldier before.

'Where is Sherlock?' the doctor seethed as he stared at the investigator. Lestrade's confusion lifted at the question, but was replaced by wariness as he stumbled over his words, looking anywhere but at John.

'Uh... we…ah… we have evidence that… that links Sh-Sherlock to a m-murder case." He started, worried that the male might hit him from that information. "S-so he's being detained in the c-cells.' John heard a muffled giggle behind him and spun round to see Sally, whose eyes lit up with glee, happy that the 'freak' was finally getting what he deserved. She stopped as soon as she saw the doctor's expression, shifting back, deciding that he seemed in the mood to actually hit anyone who pushed him.

He turned back to Lestrade.

'You had better release him now or so help me-' he didn't have to finish the sentence for them to get the message.

'Well, we are just about to interview him so-' he hesitated upon seeing John's glare '-you can be there if you wish.' he finished, defeated. With that, they left the office and made their way to the interrogation rooms. When the door opened so John could step inside, he could see that Sherlock was already seated and chained to the desk by a pair of handcuffs. The taller male gave John a swift look up and down slowly before he changed his position slightly; not so much that Lestrade would notice but enough to let John know that he knew the plan. Lestrade sat down opposite him and gestured for John to sit on the other chair next to Sherlock. The doctor took the chair, edging it closer to Sherlock, and sat down with a frown; the DI raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

'Ok, Sherlock. What were you doing on the night in question?' Sherlock looked down and John answered for him.

'He was with me.' the doctor said in an annoyed tone.

'And where were you both?'

John looked at him, holding a firm gaze, 'At Sherlock's mother's house.' He replied.

Lestrade's expression was sceptical but he continued anyway. 'What were you doing there?'

This time Sherlock answered in his baritone voice, 'Wouldn't you like to know.' But when John tapped him lightly, scolding him with his name, he apologized; something that left the DI dumbfounded. Taking this as a good sign, Sherlock continued.

'Is it not customary for one's suitor to meet one's parents? Mummy had been so looking forward to meeting him. Of course, she had to spoil it by inviting Mycroft…' Adding the ending to it seemed that much more believable, even to John and Lestrade just stared in amazement. John rested his hand on the detective's lap and looked at the older man.

'Do you have any more questions?' he asked, desperately trying to keep his voice level. The DI didn't seem to be capable of forming words at the moment. This made John smile, 'Is there a problem, inspector?' he asked.

The man shook his head, finding himself unable to speak.

'Then I suggest you untie Sherlock as you have no grounds to hold him with.'

With a nod, Lestrade stood up and shakily undid the handcuffs, wanting nothing more than to get out of the room as quickly as possible.

As soon as his hands were free, the detective leapt onto his flat mate like a cat, pinning him against the interrogation table. His eyes were dark and mirrored the same lust has his grin. John tried to speak but suddenly found a pair of lips crushing against his own. He tried to pull away but remembered that it would give the game away so decided to fight for dominance instead. He wasn't about to let Sherlock think he was the dominant one.

Grabbing the detective's slender wrists, he quickly flipped their positions and, jamming his knee between the other legs to ensure he couldn't escape, attacked the other's mouth. It was like the two of them had been deprived of one another for years; battling one another like hungry animals. Sherlock turned his head to slightly open his mouth, allowing John's tongue to slip through. After a moment the doctor moved to pull away, biting down on the other's mouth as he did so, grinning like a madman. Sherlock tried to move but found that John had used his army knowledge to keep his target firmly in place.

Grinning at this, the detective brought his mouth round his doctor's ear and whispered 'Don't you think we should go somewhere a little more private?' and John pulled away, allowing Sherlock to get up. The genius grabbed his partner's hand and dragged him out into the corridors of Scotland Yard. He stopped only once to go into the room that was on the other side of the two-way mirror to tell Lestrade, Donavan and the rest of the force that had somehow managed to fit into the tiny room that 'they were a bunch of pervs and didn't they know what privacy meant?' then they quickly left the Yard into the night air and caught a taxi back to baker street.

* * *

><p>Once safely inside the cab, John turned to the detective with a glance that could send criminals running for cover. 'You are going to pay for this' he said. Sherlock lowered his head and looked at the doctor through his dark eyelashes.<p>

'John, are you saying you didn't enjoy it?' he asked in a seductively low and husky voice. John looked at the man falling into the trap easily which was all Sherlock needed as invitation to lunge once more at his partner.

* * *

><p>When John came finally back to his senses, he was on a bed in a room he had never seen before. Blinking, he turned to look around the room and figure out where he was before he gasped. A certain Sherlock Holmes lay beside him, chuckling as he turned to face him.<p>

'Good morning, my dear, did you sleep well?' he asked, his voice on the verge of cracking into a giggle, strange for the normally firm consulting detective. John all but leapt out of bed, running his finger through his hair nervously. Did he really just call him dear? Sherlock spoke again, 'If you're going downstairs, a cup of tea would be nice.'

_Of course, it's Sherlock's room but how the hell did I get to be in his bed?_

He heard the man speak up in a questioning voice again. 'You really don't remember what happened last night, do you?' he asked. Without waiting for a reply he filled the good doctor in. '-when we were in the cab you fell asleep, I didn't want to go into your room, I know how protective you are over it, so I put you in mine and well…you looked quite cute so I joined you.' he paused to look at John's face before replying casually, 'You are always nagging me to get more sleep.'

John walked out of the room at that point. The kettle was calling him and a good strong cup of tea might just be the thing he needed right now. He stood in the kitchen, spinning the cup in his hand when he felt a presence behind him. He couldn't even turn round before two hands grabbed his waist. He froze as he felt breath against his ear. 'Am I being obvious enough yet, John?' the man let go so he could turn round.

'What?' John stuttered, looking up into the other's dark eyes.

'I like you John. I really like you.' Sherlock said as he leaned in close. 'I especially like when you are trying to dominate.' the Holmes predatory grin was firmly in place causing John to falter,

'What about the wife?' he asked and Sherlock shrugged.

'I got a divorced the moment I met you,' he murmured as he pressed his lips to the shorter man's pulse point, smirking as he felt the man shudder involuntarily. They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

'GO AWAY, MYCROFT!' the detective yelled but the door unlocked and opened anyway. The elder Holmes stepped through the door, taking in both men before smiling and closing the door behind him entering anyway.

'I hope the new arrangements will help you to keep my dear brother out of trouble, Dr Watson,' he said with a smile. 'I know where to get a very good dog collar if you think it would help.' the elder Holmes was now unable to keep himself from chuckling as he saw Sherlock's pouting face.

'Under no circumstances are you ever going to get me in a dog collar John, so don't even bother trying.' Sherlock said as firmly as he could. John just looked at the man and laughed.

'I think I'll take you up of that offer, Mycroft.' he said before getting tackled to the sofa both in revenge and in play.

* * *

><p>John and Sherlock stood at the front door of Sherlock's mother's. He still called her 'mummy' but John couldn't bring himself to do so. As they waited for her to answer, Sherlock fiddled with the leather attached round his neck. It had only take a week for John to force it onto him and the experience was not one Sherlock wished to repeat though he knew that John would without hesitation if he took it off without permission. He would never underestimate the strength of Soldier John ever again.<p>

They were let in by mummy herself in a hail of kissing, hugging and introductions. They proceeded into the living room. John had been prepared for a hailstorm of questions by his partner's family; they still had his own parents to see but that could wait. John found himself stopping to look at the life he had now with a smile. He had been in many stressful situations in his life time but nothing could compare to the bundle of stress which was known as Sherlock Holmes, his flat mate, his partner and his love. The man who seemed to be able to read minds and appeared to be out on a mission to make everyone else's life hell; and he belonged to John. The doctor smiled to himself as he followed the man further into what would prove to be just the beginning of a whole new life.

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>- well, there you go. Feel free to review (aka, please review... pretty please?)

Thanks to DarkMoonChylde for making this so much better, I love you forever :D

B  
>x<p> 


End file.
